The Voice
by Nightscrawlearth
Summary: <html><head></head>Eddie Brock has discovered a new side to himself and it's not so friendly.</html>


Eddie awoke, pushing himself off the cold, chequered tile floor and onto his knees. He looked about himself; the room he was in was square and empty. No door, no windows, no generic features of any room he'd been to before such as tables, chairs and the like. Just a single light hanging from the celing, bathing the room in an eerie white light and making everything seem gray and bitter.

With some effort, Eddie stood up, as he went down to dust himself off he noted his clothing: a black jacket with his white spider insignia upon it. The last time he'd worn something like this it had been...

A 'mindscape'? , Eddie asked aloud in a cool whisper, his brow knotted as he considered what this meant: was he having some kind of dream or was this his mind? His 'astral plane', or whatever people called it? If so, how did he get in? And how could he leave?

Questions, questions, questions... , came a raspy, voice, seeming to echo and emanate at once from every corner of the room. We don't like questions...do we?

Eddie paused for a moment, looking around himself at the plain, concrete walls of the room. What are you and where did you come from? Hell, where are you? , the question was followed with a screeching laugh unearthly, psychotic. Eddie felt his resolve crack a little at the sound.

Do we feel...powerless? Afraid? , the mystery voice sneered again. Eddie scoffed, smile quickly fading. We are confused. Why is this?

Can you stop with all this 'we' crap! , Eddie half yelled. It's really starting to bug me...exactly who are 'we' an-...see? You've got me started now!

There was no reply. Moments passed. Still nothing.

What are you? , Eddie asked the silence. Moments passed again...

We are 'Venom'. We named ourself that.

Eddie stood motionless, eyes widening. That voice was him- well, his monster-beast side from before. No... , he said. No, that isn't right: I named myself that.

It's our name! , the voice suddenly roared. OURS. WE are Venom!

No, no, no, see: 'We' are not anything, mate. , Eddie cut in. I am Eddie Brock. And you have no place here! Now I don't know what the hell you are, but I want you out of my head!

Silence prevailed again. Eddie took a deep breath as his eyes traced about the featureless walls until he noticed a leak: a black liquid leaking from one of the walls. He approached it and raised a finger, touching it. With his contact the liquid seemed to take on some kind of sentience, trying to slither onto him. Before it could, Eddie shook it off and backed away, horrified to see the whole wall no, all the walls were now bleeding with the black, tar-like substance.

WE will not be denied ourself. , the voice bellowed. Eddie stopped in the center of the room, breathing heavilly. WE protected us whenever we were hurt. WE have saved us. WE have survived when Eddie Brock has not!

Eddie looked up, the light in the center of the celing began to flicker as the liquid seeped through, beginning to coat everything in its sable gleam. It dripped onto Eddie, steadily becoming a tar-like stream, bonding to his body and forcing him to his knees. He struggled, to no avail, as the tar's grip forced his neck back and his eyes open. You can't...if we are each other you can't fight me. , Eddie said, secretly hoping this was fact.

The tar came together before him, rising up into a column and slowly forming into a nightmarish visage: a barely humanoid creature, writhing like a tower of ooze, with a malicious looking fanged maw. It leaned close to Eddie's face, somehow, though eyeless, looking deep into him.

There IS NO Eddie Brock. , the creature said. There is only...VENOM.

With a start, Eddie bolted upright in his bed, breathing heavily. He looked around his room: he was back in his dorm.

Eddie fell back into his pillows with a sigh, turning to see the clock: 10:47am. Chances are he was looking at detention again. He rolled onto his back once more. What had just happened? Was that a nightmare or was it real? Was his power actually trying to take control?

...fucking Mondays. , he sighed to himself, sitting up slowly. Times like these called for a psychic, and to his advantage, Eddie was living in a school with a telepathic councillor. With a quick yawn, he popped out of bed and began his morning ritual of washing and clothing...

Eddie Brock needed answers. But what else was new?


End file.
